


Burn It Down

by charmingoutlaws (twdsunshine)



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/charmingoutlaws
Summary: Sequel to The Other Guy [https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895078].The reader is struggling with the circumstances of Opie’s death, but the Sons tiptoeing around her and treating her like she’s constantly on the verge of breaking down isn’t helping.  When her anger threatens to overwhelm her, she turns to Tig Trager in the hope that he’ll be able to give her the release that she needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! It feels so good to be continuing our reader’s story after breaking all of your hearts at the end of The Other Guy. This sequel is just a mini-series, 3 parts, and I hope you all enjoy! I’ve tried to fill in a bit of the back story in this chapter, just for anyone that hasn’t read The Other Guy before, so hopefully it all makes sense. Thanks for taking the time to check it out. Here we go…

The clubhouse was quiet.  The jukebox in the corner stood unused, a fine layer of dust covering its surface.  No prospect tended the bar.  No rowdy outlaws jostled for position as they waited to be served.  It was a Friday night but the place was like a ghost town, and your shoulders slumped as you shuffled from your room into the gloomy atmosphere.

There had been a time when the weekend was an excuse to party, despite the MC not keeping to typical business hours.  The promise of Saturday brought with it the desire to get steaming drunk and take advantage of some willing sweet butt for most of the men, but it hadn’t been like that for months now.  Three to be exact.  Since Opie.  

You swallowed hard as you took in the empty space.  A glass of whiskey stood abandoned on the table nearest you and you scooped it up as you passed, taking a sip and letting it burn a fiery trail down your throat.  A cough from behind you caused you to pause with the tumbler halfway to your lips for another taste, and you span to see Jax Teller standing in the doorway of the chapel, watching you with his brow furrowed in concern.

Jax was your best friend, just as Opie had been his.  What Opie had been to you was so much more, but you knew that you and the Club’s VP now missed him in equal measure, both of you carrying a burden of guilt that was impossible to shift.  Now, Jax ran a hand through his slicked back hair, offering you a small smile as he crossed the room towards you and slid his arms around your waist.

‘How’re you doin’, darlin’?’  

You let him hold you for a beat longer before pulling away, the once easy affection that you’d shared tainted by his revelation that he felt for you far more than he should when he had an old lady and two sons to take care of.  It had caused a rift between you and Ope that you’d never had the time to heal, and it still brought a lump to your throat when he pulled you into his embrace.  ‘I’m okay.’

‘Still nothin’?’

‘Nope.  Not a peep.  Guess they’re men of their word, huh?’  You exchanged a loaded look before you turned away, knocking back the remaining whiskey and closing your eyes as it set your chest ablaze.  You hated to think of them, The Collective, lurking in the shadows.  

The organisation that your brother, Aaron, had headed up had viewed you as nothing but a commodity, a body to be sold for their profit against your will.  You’d made your escape from them a long time ago but they’d tracked you down, and Opie had killed Aaron in an act of revenge.  It was while he and Jax were in prison awaiting trial for his murder that Ope had been beaten to death, offering up his life to guarantee your safety, and so far it seemed that he really had managed to set you free, though you didn’t doubt that The Collective were still active.  You hated that, the knowledge that they were continuing to ruin lives, though you were grateful that they’d greased the right palms to ensure Jax’s release before disappearing from your life.  It seemed that they preferred to conduct their business outside of the courts and spilling your old man’s blood had sated their thirst for vengeance.

‘So,’ you continued when Jax remained silent, ‘where is everyone?’

‘Tig and Hap are in the ring.  Chibs is refereeing.  We just got out of church an hour ago.’

‘S’kinda dead round here,’ you observed with a shrug.  ‘Makes me miss the old days.’

‘We weren’t sure if you were ready…’

‘For what?  A party?’  He reached out to cup your face and you flinched away from his touch.  ‘Life goes on, right?’

‘Right.’  For a moment, you thought he might say something else, but he just took out a cigarette and lit up, tucking the pack back into his pocket without offering you one.  You weren’t sure what he was waiting for as he studied you, but the intensity made your cheeks flush with heat.

‘I’m gonna head out, watch the fight.’

‘Y/N.’  His voice halted you before you could reach the door and you turned to face him as he closed the distance between you.  ‘You know I’m here for you right?’

‘I know.’

‘I know things got pretty weird between us before…  But we’re friends still, aren’t we?’

‘Of course.’

‘Anything you need, anything, someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on… I’m here.’

You tried to stifle the sigh of frustration that rose in your throat as he reached out to rest a hand on your shoulder, only partially succeeding.  It had been the same thing since you’d laid Opie to rest.  The Sons tiptoed around you, afraid to do or say the wrong thing, as though suspecting you of being on the verge of breaking down at any given moment.  It made you feel like you were doing something wrong, that your grief was less valid somehow because you didn’t feel the need to cry.  You hadn’t shed a tear in weeks and, truthfully, you weren’t all that sad anymore.

Your misery had diminished surprisingly quickly to be replaced by a simmering, all-consuming anger that boiled the blood in your veins.  Some days you’d lose hours sitting on your bed, clenching your fists so hard that your nails cut into your palms, as the injustice of it all overwhelmed you.  Ope was gone.  Your Opie.  And the people who had killed him were still alive, still treating women like cattle and raking in their millions.  He was gone and you’d never had your opportunity to apologise to him, to make things right, to tell him how much you’d loved him, and the MC seemed to have decided that the score was settled.  You knew it was good sense - there was no way the Club would survive all out war with an organisation on that scale - but you just couldn’t let it lie.  You couldn’t live with it, and you didn’t know how to voice that rage without it sounding like a call to arms.  You didn’t want them to fight the battle for you.  You wanted to do it yourself, but it felt far beyond your capability.

 

* * *

 

The yard was lit with floodlights when you stepped out of the clubhouse, attention immediately drawn to the two warriors sparring in the ring.  Both were bloodied as they circled each other, knuckles wrapped as they danced, and you raised your hand in a wave, earning TIg a sharp left-hook to the jaw as you distracted him for a second too long.  

Chibs chuckled as you hopped up onto the table of picnic bench beside him, shifting closer when he slung an arm around your shoulders and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek.  ‘Alright, lass?’

‘How’s it going, Chibby?’

He shook his head, motioning towards the fight.  ‘Reckon Happy’s got this one in the bag.’

It was hardly surprising.  The man was lithe and quick on his feet, more than a match for Tig’s solid strength, and the two were equally brutal, neither pulling their punches.  ‘Too late for me to place a bet?’

‘’Fraid so.’  He winked at you as he slid to the ground, vaulting up onto the ring with a yell.  ‘That’s enough, boys!  You’re done!  Break it up!’

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but then the two outlaws separated, catching their breaths before exchanging a good-natured clap on the back.  Their boxing was a useful vent for their frustrations, but they were as disciplined as soldiers and there were no hard feelings.

You stretched your arms out towards Tig as he jumped down from the ring, wrapping them around his neck despite the sweat and blood that clung to his skin.  You’d grown increasingly close over the past few months, as you found yourself drawn to the only outlaw that didn’t treat you any differently to how he had before your loss.  You were sure that he worried about you, but he hid it better, just being the same dependable presence in your life that he always had been.  When Opie had first been arrested, Tig had taken to sharing your bed, holding you through the night when you’d needed comfort, but he’d instinctively known when you’d received the news of his death that you’d want to be alone, and had left you to cope in your own way, letting you know that if you needed him he was just a phonecall away.  You knew that he meant it.

‘Hey baby, did you see me up there?  I was on fire!’  He released his grip on you to flex his muscles, pulling a laugh from your lips as you reached up to wipe a smear of blood from his cheek.

‘You look a little battered.’

‘Nah, all cosmetic, sweetheart.  Takes more than a few sloppy swings to take me down, y’know?’

Behind him, Happy raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in disbelief, and you couldn’t help but laugh harder as he growled, ‘You wanna go again, old man?’

‘Now, boys,’ Chibs interjected.  ‘Play nice.’

Tig slumped onto the seat beside where your feet now rested, leaning heavily against your legs as he retrieved a bottle of beer from the ground and took a thirsty gulp.  ‘So, where you been hiding?  Haven’t seen you ‘round much today.’

‘Day off,’ you explained, though that was technically a lie.  Tara had popped by the T.M. office that morning to chat with Gemma and it had been obvious from the outset that you were in the way.  When Gemma had suggested you take the day to run some errands, you’d happily obliged, and had spent the day wandering town, trying to look busy and hoping that eventually the pitying gazes would stop.

‘Yeah?  You have fun?’

You shrugged.  ‘It was fine.’

‘What about tomorrow?’  He paused in mopping the sweat from his face to glance up at you.  ‘Wanna hang out?’

‘You’re not busy?’

‘Nah, baby.  You know I’ve always got time for you.  Breakfast?’

‘Sure.’

‘I know a great little place.’

 

* * *

 

The rush of air against your skin drove the exhaustion from your body, and you couldn’t help but smile as you clung tightly onto Tig.  It was early, just after dawn, as you followed the road through the forest, winding through open countryside, passing through tiny towns you’d never seen before.  It wasn’t often that you got out on the back of a bike anymore.  Whenever you suggested it, the guys would put you off, making excuses, afraid that the sensation of the leather kutte against your skin, the thrum of the engine beneath you, would remind you of what you’d lost.  In fact, being out on the road was the best therapy and, when Tig finally pulled up in front of a long wood cabin with a neon sign above its door, you almost wished the journey wasn’t over.

‘Check this place out,’ he told you proudly as he dismounted, watching as you slipped your helmet off and ran an appraising eye over the joint.  It looked more like it belonged up in the mountains than at the side of a dusty highway.  'It’s great, huh?  This place does the best coffee on the west coast, I’d put money on it.’

He led you inside, one hand on the small of your back, and the aroma of freshly brewed beans assaulted your senses as soon as you stepped in the door.  Heavy wooden tables lined the room, just a small counter at one end, and you could hear the sizzle of bacon coming from the kitchen.  A buxom redhead in a short skirt and an apron bustled over, lips curving in a devilish smile when she spotted her new arrivals.  

'Alex,’ she greeted him fondly, and he stepped forward to press a kiss to her cheek, his fingers lingering on her waist.

'Martha, it’s been too long, beautiful.  How’re you doing?’

'All the better for seeing you.’  Her cheeks were flushed, and her smile only fell a little when her gaze fixed on you.  'Table for two, is it?’

'Please.’

'Take a seat wherever, honey.  I’ll be over to take your order in a hot minute.’

As she turned away, Tig followed you to a booth in the back of the cafe, and you quirked a brow at him as he slid into the seat opposite you.  'You hit that, Trager?’

‘Once or twice,’ he admitted with a smirk.  ‘Can’t fault the lady’s service, I can tell you that.’

'You’re disgusting.’

When the waitress returned, you both opted for the special and, moments later, two piles of steaming pillowy pancakes were placed in front of you, crispy rashers of bacon arranged haphazardly on top, and a pitcher of syrup set down between you to share.  

'Martha, you’re amazing,’ Tig announced with a wink as she sashayed away, and you rolled your eyes before digging in.  'It’s good, right?  I love this place.’

'How come you’ve never brought me here before?’ you asked when you’d swallowed your mouthful and something flashed across his face, darkening his gaze for just a moment.

'Used to bring my old lady here, way back.’

'Colleen?’ you asked, the mother of Tig’s girls the only woman you’d known who could even remotely have been referred to as Tig’s old lady, but he was shaking his head.

'Nah.  Before.  Really loved that one.’

You frowned at this new information, before pressing for more.  ‘What happened to her?’

He swallowed hard, taking a sip of coffee, his eyes fixed on a knot in the wooden surface.  'Slid under the wheels of a semi when I laid my bike down just outside of town.  She was gone before I reached her side.  She was a good girl, deserved better.’

'I’m sorry.’  You reached across the table to squeeze his hand, unaccustomed to seeing the pain that was writ over his face.  'I had no idea.’

‘Ah, I don’t talk about it,’ he admitted with a shake of his head.  'It was a damn lifetime ago, sweetheart.’

'So, why are you telling me now?  Why bring me here?’

'Because I know what you’re going through.  I want you to know that I understand-’

You cut him off with an edge to your tone that ordinarily would have shut him down, but today he kept on, and you wondered if Chibs had been on at him to get you talking.  'I’m fine, Tig.’

'Sweetheart, you look like you haven’t slept in months.’

‘So, I’m a little tired.  That doesn’t mean-’

'What?’  His forehead creased with a frown.  'What is it, Y/N?  You worried we’re gonna think you’re weak, is that it?  'Cause I can tell you now there’s not a single one of us that would think that.  We know how fucking strong you are, doll.  There’s not a day that goes by when you don’t amaze me.  But right now, you’re letting this eat you all up inside and I can't… I can’t just sit back and watch.’

You let out a heavy sigh.  ‘You were supposed to be different.’

'What’s that supposed to mean?’

'It means that… everyone’s tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass, like I’m gonna break down if anyone does anything that might remind me of Ope, and you weren’t like that.  You were just treating me how you always did.  Why the hell are you pressing me on this now?’

He bowed his head for a moment, and you heard him suck in a breath as he struggled to keep control of the situation against your rising temper.  'I am different, baby.  The others, yeah, they don’t wanna see you cry anymore.  They hate seeing you cry, sweetheart.  But I know it ain’t sadness you’re feeling.  I can see it in your eyes.  You’re angry.  You’re fucking raging inside there…’  His fingers stretched towards your heart and you shrunk away from his touch.  'And I’m getting worried that you’re gonna do something stupid because the only way you can get past this is by going out looking for revenge.’

It was like he had a window into your head and you just stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded.  'It was my fault, Tig.  They made it my fault.  The Collective did that.  I don’t know how- how I can keep going when the people responsible are still out there-’

'I get it,’ he assured you, and this time it was him reaching for your hand, rubbing a calloused thumb over the backs of your knuckles.  'My girl dying out on that road, that was down to me.  I was going too fast, showing off, being a reckless prick, and she paid the price.  And you can bet your ass I wanted revenge.’

'What did you do?’

He let out a humourless laugh and spread his hands wide.  'Look at me, doll.  I’m a mess.  This is what I did.  Damn near destroyed myself.  You know you don’t make it to Sergeant for the MC without having some sort of a death wish.’

'Tig-’

'But I don’t want this for you, baby, okay?  So, you gotta let me in.  You gotta let me help!’

He fell silent, eyes trained intently on your face as you considered his words, before your gaze finally locked on his and you nodded slowly.

'What do you need, sweetheart?  Tell me and I’ll do whatever I can to make this better for you.’

'I need to destroy them.  I need to tear them apart.’  As Tig’s lips drew into a thin line at the prospect of what you were suggesting, you realised with startling clarity what you were going to do.  'I want to burn The Collective to the ground.’


	2. Chapter 2

‘Alright, you sure you wanna do this?’  You could see the concern in Tig’s eyes under the glow of the streetlights, but you nodded all the same.

‘I have to.’

Fear had formed an iron cage around your chest, tightening with each passing second so that it felt like you had to fight for every breath, but beyond that was the deep-seated satisfaction that you were finally doing something, taking action against Opie’s killers.

Before you loomed a big, brick building, with dark blinds blacking out the windows and just a couple of nondescript saloon cars parked out front.  It didn’t look like much, but Tig had assured you that this was The Collective’s HQ, the same place that Opie and Jax had launched the attack that Aaron had escaped unscathed, before they’d tracked him to the safe house where he finally met his end.  From your understanding that meant that most of the decisions regarding the organisation’s activity on the west coast was made within those walls, if not on an even larger scale.  You weren’t stupid enough to think that taking this place down would take down The Collective - they operated on far too large a scale for that - but it would undoubtedly hurt them, and that’s what you wanted.  You needed them to feel even a fraction of your pain.

‘Alright then.’  Tig’s kutte was covered by an oversized, black hoody, and he pulled the hood up now so that his face was cast into shadow.  This couldn’t come back on the club and you both knew it.  ‘You know what you’re doing?’

‘Just like you told me.  Set the charges, get the hell out, right?’  Explosives had been Opie’s thing, but Tig knew enough to get by, and he’d sourced what you needed from a supplier outside of town using a false name.  It should have scared you, how proficient he was at subterfuge but, after so long running with the MC, you barely blinked an eye at his underhanded methods.  

‘And I tell you to run, you run, you hear me?  You don’t stop, no matter what happens.  If shit goes south, I want you to get yourself as far away from here as possible.’

‘I promise.’

You didn’t think that anybody else in the world would take this kind of risk for you.  You didn’t think that anybody else would understand why this was so important to you, but Tig did.  In fact, you would put money on the other Sons berating him for letting you be so reckless if they knew.  But they didn’t.  This was between the two of you and it was time.

Calloused fingers brushed over the back of your neck as Tig pulled you close, pressing an urgent kiss to your forehead, murmuring, ‘Let’s go!’ against your skin before pushing you away.  And then you were moving, crouching low as you darted along the alley that bordered one side of the building.  When you spotted the fire exit up above you, Tig dropped to his knees, cupping his hands to give you a leg up and you sprung into the air, hands groping for the top of the fence, grip nearly slipping as you clutched at the wire.  Hauling your body up and over, Tig followed close behind, not needing a boost with the extra height he had on you, and, when his feet hit the ground with a muffled thud on the other side, you were off again.

Footsteps sounded, hurried and heavy, approaching from behind, and Tig span, pulling you out of the way as he raised his gun.  The silencer was already in place and the guard dropped before he’d even picked out your position.  The rubber soles of your boots were quiet against the metal stairs as you climbed, and, as Tig had thought, the fire door was propped open, just a couple of centimetres.  It’s how Jax and Ope had gained access before, and it seemed that they hadn’t learned their lesson.   _Guard likes to slip out for a smoke_ , Tig had told you, and that same guard was taken down with swift efficiency.

‘You good?’ Tig’s whisper cut through the silence.

‘I’m good.’

‘Alright.’

You split off, turning left at the end of the corridor, while he turned right, the backpack on your shoulders weighing heavier with every step.

Finally you reached your location, a long bank of offices that stretched the width of the building, and you entered the first one, staring wildly round as the shadows played tricks on you.  You were alone.  Your hands shook as you prepared the charge, following Tig’s instructions to the letter, afraid that a mistake would mean that your revenge would cost you far more than you wanted to pay.  But then it was done, and you inspected your work with a critical eye, before backing quietly out of the room and moving on to the next.

You’d lost all sense of time when you retraced your steps, finding the main stairwell that you’d passed by and taking the stairs two at a time, rushing now that your job was done.  The floor below was marked by two more bodies slumped against each other, blood seeping from the bullet wounds in their chests and staining the carpet red.

Down another floor and your heart faltered when you heard movement behind you, but, when you span, it was only Tig standing there, his eyes ablaze with adrenaline as he reached for your hand.  ‘Done?’

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, suddenly breathless at the realisation of what you’d achieved.  

‘Let’s get the hell out of here then, baby.  C’mon, after you.’

You led the way down the stairs, glad you’d memorised the plan that Tig had showed you of the building’s layout as you navigated your way through the maze of corridors.  Main reception was at the front on the ground floor, but that would be swarming with security, and so you turned towards the back, where another fire exit was positioned in the far right corner.  

You’d made it so far without incident, none of the guards you’d come across firing a single shot before the outlaw on your heels had taken them down, and confidence made you complacent so that, when you turned the final corner, the blow landed before you’d even registered the bulk of the man that confronted you.  You hit the ground hard, your ears ringing from the impact.  Tig had raised his sidearm to let loose a bullet but it was slapped away before he could pull the trigger, and the weapon clattered to the floor as he fell, the guard crashing down on top of him.  You watched in horror as they wrestled, your eyes flicking from the fight to the gun laying just feet away and, as you heard Tig’s grunt of pain as a fist collided with his ribs, you threw yourself towards the pistol, rolling onto your back and bringing it up in front of you.

‘Hey!’

The guard paused in his assault on the biker, looking up just in time to see your finger flinch on the mechanism.  The bullet tore through his stomach and he slumped to the floor.

‘Hey, you alright?’  Tig was struggling to get out from beneath his attacker and, when he made it, he rushed to your side.  ‘Look at me, sweetheart.  You good?’

‘Uh huh.’  You nodded dumbly as he peeled your fingers from the gun.  

‘Alright, c’mon, we gotta move.’

He tugged you to your feet, one arm around your waist, propelling you forwards as you made for the exit.  As you thrust the door open, a shrill alarm split the air, but Tig ignored your look of horror, dragging you back into the shadows and around to where you’d cleared the fence before.  Instead of giving you a leg up, this time he hoisted you up and over, waiting until you hit the ground, before following, and then he was yanking you into the cover of the bushes that bordered the parking lot, reaching into his pocket to pull out an ominous-looking device.  

‘Do it,’ you urged, but he shook his head, pressing it into your hand.

‘This one’s all yours, baby.’  Your eyes locked on his as your heart began to race and he nodded in encouragement.  ‘You can do this, for Ope.’

The world ground to a standstill as your thumb twitched on the button.  It was a flicker of a movement, but it was enough, and the scene in front of you ignited.  Flames shot towards the sky as the crack of the blast shook the ground, and moments later the brick began to crumble as the walls collapsed in on themselves.  Clouds of dust mixed with billowing smoke, making it hard to breathe, and, as you began to cough violently, Tig’s hand found yours and you were running again, this time back towards the bike he’d left on the street.

As the engine rumbled to life beneath you and he pulled away, you craned your neck, glancing back at the destruction that you’d left behind.  You’d taken a life, probably more as the explosion ripped through the building, and in a twisted way, it felt good.  It felt fair.  As the cold wind whipped your face, the baseball cap flying from your head and disappearing into the darkness, you smiled.

 

* * *

 

Tig rode for what seemed like hours.  You knew he was travelling in widening circles, checking that you weren’t being tailed, but you were enjoying the trip.  The air smelt fresh in the early hours, clearing your lungs of the smoke from the fire, and the outlaw’s body was warm against yours as you held on tight.  His hoody was soft against your cheek as you leant into him, his familiar scent grounding you though your pulse continued to pound in your ears.

Finally, the bike veered off from the figure-of-eight pattern that Tig had been following, and began to travel foreign streets, each sight new, each place different.  Or so you thought.  And then your stomach tightened and a poisonous nausea threatened to overwhelm you.

‘Stop!’  Your hands slid to Tig’s sides, nails penetrating the fabric of his sweater and finding the leather beneath.  ‘Stop, Tig!  Now!’

The road was empty, deserted, and he rolled to a halt, twisting round to face you with a frown.  ‘What?  What is it?’

‘That place.’  The building you’d just passed had triggered an onslaught of memories and they flicked through your mind like a slideshow, one traumatic second after another.  You’d been tied up in there, blindfolded, paraded like an animal in front of a crowd of onlookers in a dress that rode up your thighs and heels that pinched your toes.  ‘That’s their auction house.’

‘Shit.’  Tig’s eyes raked over your face, noting the pain that had contorted your expression as you blinked back tears.  ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I wasn’t thinking-’

But neither were you anymore.  Your arms wrapped around him again, but this time one slipped beneath the layers of his clothing, seeking out the harness that you knew he wore at all times and tugging his sidearm free from its holster.

‘Y/N, no, what are you-’

His protests fell on deaf ears as you slid from the bike and marched towards the place that had haunted your worst nightmares, holding the gun aloft.  The windows were large and set high up in the walls and they were your target as you took aim.  The smash of shattering glass could have woken the dead as you worked your way around the perimeter, firing over and over.  You were in a trance, set on doing as much damage as possible, though you knew it was barely a scratch to an organisation like The Collective.  Tig was beside you, trying to wrench the weapon from your grasp, but you pushed him away.  

‘Baby, please.’

In the back of your mind, you supposed you’d been expecting security to come running, a handful of guards in their neatly-pressed suits, guns drawn, but no one came.  Not worth the manpower to protect an empty building.  Not worth making people curious as to what went on inside.  

When the task was done, a thin coil of smoke curling up into the air as you let the gun fall to your side, your anger was still simmering deep in your gut.  

‘Hey, Y/N, look at me, doll.  You okay?’  Tig’s finger slipped beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his.  ‘This was fucking stupid, sweetheart.  Cops are probably already on their way.  I gotta get you out of here.’

‘I don’t wanna go home,’ you murmured as he guided you back towards the road.  ‘I can’t.  Not yet.’

‘Then we won’t go home.  But we gotta move.’

 

* * *

 

It was like a red mist had descended.  The rage that you’d kept bottled up for three long months had been unleashed and it wound itself around you, driving every decision you made.  The sun was coming up but all you could see was darkness, and you gave yourself over to it with abandon.

Sometime during the night, you’d come into the possession of a bottle of vodka, and you swigged from it now, oblivious to the look of concern that Tig was shooting you in his mirror as he slowed the bike, afraid for you as you swayed unsteadily.  He could still picture the look on the young shop attendant’s face as you’d climbed over the counter, helping yourself to the alcohol.  They’d challenged you with a shaky voice but you’d simply thrown the bottle down at their feet, an explosion of glass and toxic liquor showering down around them, before selecting another and sauntering out of the store.  He’d chucked a couple of notes down on the counter before he’d followed, muttering an apology.

‘What the hell was that?’ he’d asked as you waved your prize in his face.

‘I was thirsty.’

You were beyond thirsty now, wrecked and still insistent on staying out.  He was reluctant to indulge you, but equal to that was a belief that you needed to get this shit out of your system, and so he rode on.

 

* * *

 

As the sun came up, you found yourselves on the coast, and Tig pulled up outside a small parade of stores, just opening up for the day.  Miles of golden sand stretched out before you, and you broke into a run as you charged towards the sea, wading in up to your waist fully-clothed with a maniacal laugh.  Tig watched from the shore as you span in circles, the half-empty bottle swinging from your fingers, a genuine smile splitting your face.

You were lost in a memory.  You weren’t in the sea.  You were in a secluded lake in the middle of the forest, wrapped around the man that you loved.  He moved you lazily through the water as he stole warm, summer kisses, and your fingers laced into his hair, pulling him closer, begging for more.  The vodka turned into the taste of Opie on your tongue, and you moaned in spite of yourself, longing for the feel of him, your gentle giant.  But he was gone.  It was all gone.

When you finally dragged your tired, shivering body from the waves, Tig was waiting for you, pulling off his hoody and wrapping it around you, fending off the chill.  Your hair dripped icy droplets down onto your chest but you were numb to the sensation.  

‘You hungry, sweetheart?’  Tig’s voice was tentative, as though he was unsure whether you might kiss him or try to kill him, and you shot him a tight smile as you leant into his side.

‘I could eat.’

You strolled along the pier, your arm tucked through his, following the aroma of coffee and bacon until you reached a tiny diner right at the end.  You opted to sit at an outside table as Tig went to place your order, staring off into the distance, the vastness of the ocean seeming to match the vastness of your future as it stretched out before you.  Without Opie it seemed empty and bleak, and anger swelled in your stomach once again.

‘It’ll be right out,’ Tig told you as he took his seat opposite you and, true to his word, minutes later a waitress appeared, carrying two steaming plates of breakfast.

‘Here you go, honey.  Can I get you anything else?’

Tig shook his head but you were transfixed by the ring on her finger.  The diamond was small really, unimpressive, but she sported it on the ring finger of her left hand and the wave of jealousy that broke over you made your heart clench.  How was it that this woman deserved happiness when you’d had yours so cruelly ripped away?

‘Y/N, what’re you doing?’  You hadn’t even realised that you’d grasped her hand until Tig’s warning broke through your thoughts.  ‘Doll, let her go.’

‘You’re getting married?’  You spat the words as though getting married was the equivalent of getting executed, and she cast a wary glance at Tig before she replied.

‘Uh huh, in June.  Been with my Kenny nearly four years.’

Four years.  The words hit you like a punch to the gut.  She’d had four years with the man she loved while you’d barely had a matter of months.  How was that fair?  How in the hell could you live in a world where other people could be so blatantly happy when you were being sucked deeper into this pool of resentment and fury?  

‘Give me the ring.’

‘What?’   _‘What?’_  The question came from her and Tig at the same time, but your expression didn’t falter.

‘The ring.  You don’t deserve it.  Why in the hell should you get to have it?’

‘Y/N, sweetheart, c’mon now-’

‘My friend over there, he has a gun.’

‘No, no, I don’t-’

Tig was cut off by her choked sob, as you wrenched the gem from her finger.  ‘What the hell are you doing?  Are you out of your freakin’ mind?  You better give that back or, I swear to God, I’ll call the cops!’

You ignored her protests, studying the ring, the diamond glinting in the sunlight, before rising from your seat, drawing your arm back and hurling it into the sea that crashed around the wooden supports beneath you.  For a moment, it floated on the top of the foamy breakers, before sinking beneath the surface.

Behind you, Tig was trying to calm the situation, pulling out his wallet, but the waitress’ voice was becoming increasingly shrill as you turned back to face her.  ‘You’re crazy!  Both of you!  You’re insane!’

Tig’s fingers wrapped around your arm, his grip like iron as he pulled you away, staring down at you as though you were a stranger that he’d found himself lumbered with, and you realised in that moment that he didn’t understand.  He didn’t understand at all.

 

* * *

 

It was mid-afternoon when he finally drew up outside a rundown-looking building with a row of Harleys outside.  You’d been riding since he’d hauled you away from the diner on the pier, his stony silence doing nothing to calm your temper, and the realisation that he’d brought you to another charter’s clubhouse had you bristling.

‘What are we doing here?’

‘What?’  He forced a smile, nodding towards the front door which was swinging open, welcoming faces ushering you inside.  ‘They’re good guys up here.  I figured cheap booze, a place to crash… Could do worse, right?’

You sighed, but followed him into the bar, wrinkling your nose at the scent of smoke and stale liquor.  SAMCRO’s setup wasn’t exactly a palace but this place was a slum in comparison.

‘What’ll it be?’ the prospect asked, as Tig was drawn off to one side, pulled into warm embraces by the President and ranking officers while you settled yourself on a solitary stool.

‘Vodka.  Keep it coming.’  So, maybe it wasn’t so bad here after all.

 

* * *

 

The alcohol was warm in your belly, filling your veins with liquid fire as though you’d been injected with energy.  Your arrival seemed to have become an excuse for a party to kick off, and now, hours later, the bar was buzzing with music and laughter as more and more bodies packed themselves in to the cramped space.  You’d lost track of Tig at some point, but you weren’t particularly bothered about that, having grown tired of his pointed looks and the way he ushered away any of the outlaws that got too close.  A good time was just what you needed.

When a couple of sweet butts climbed onto the bar, shaking their hips and twirling to the song that filtered out from the tinny speakers, you saw no reason not to join them, and you heaved yourself up onto the sticky surface, clambering to your feet and raising your arms in the air as a loud cheer went up from those looking on.  You tossed your hair over your shoulder as you began to dance, closing your eyes and letting the beat take over, thrumming through your veins.  A blurry face passed you up a shot and you knocked it back, grimacing at the tequila tang that burned down your throat.  

‘Y/N?’  Tig’s voice was barely audible above the jeers around you and you couldn’t pick him out of the crowd, but you threw your head back.

‘Tiggy!  I feel amazing!’

A strong arm wrapped around the back of your legs, and you fell forward, landing with a groan against a broad shoulder.  When your feet found the floor, you staggered a little, disorientated, but, as you regained focus, Jax loomed over you and you shrunk away from him.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Over his shoulder, your eyes finally found Tig and you knew your look of betrayal wounded him as he dropped his gaze to the ground.

‘What are you doing here, Teller?’

‘Tig called.  You’re scaring the crap outta him, Y/N!  What is this?’

‘I’m just having fun,’ you screeched back, planting your hands against his chest and shoving him roughly away.  ‘You remember fun, don’t you, Jax?  Letting loose?  Remember how you used to do that?  Remember how you pushed me into Opie’s arms when you were trying to use me to get at your wife, huh?  You remember that?  And remember how Opie died?  Yeah, he died!  That’s right!  To protect me!  And now I’m alone and nothing’s the same and I hate everything!  I hate it!’

Silence had fallen around you, horrified bikers watching the exchange, and you had the sudden desperate urge to punch your best friend in the face that was frowning at you like you’d lost your mind.  Instead, you drove your fist into the wall behind you, letting out a pained shout as the plaster splintered, your knuckles cracking in protest.  

‘You need to calm down.  I’m taking you home.’

‘No!’

This time when you pushed Jax away it was so you could shove past him, barrelling out of the bar and taking off into the darkness.  The parking lot was bordered by trees and you let them swallow you up as you fled, unable to contain your sobs as your emotions took over, drowning you in misery and anger and frustration as the world fell apart.  You didn’t have a clue what you were doing anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

You were brought to an abrupt halt as you reached the steep edge of the mountainside.  Spread out before you were acres of dense woodland, branches reaching towards the heavens, and, beyond that, residential streets, golden lights aglow in a thousand tiny windows as the world readied itself to sleep.  Your heart was pounding in your chest, your legs like jelly, but you held yourself steady as you took in the scene.  How many people down there were hurting like you were, you wondered?  How many were grieving?  How many were angry?  More than you’d ever have guessed, you were sure, and yet they were carrying on with their lives, while you were imploding.

The thud of footsteps behind you had you spinning wildly round, expecting to see Jax, ready to drag you back to his bike and whisk you off back to Charming, but instead Tig emerged from the forest, panting hard.  His skin was slicked with sweat and he bent forward, resting his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath.  ‘Dammit, doll, you’re gonna be the death of me.’

‘What are you doing here?’  Your voice was cold but you were still smarting from his betrayal.  You knew you must have seemed in danger of going completely off the rails but to call Jax of all people…  He was the last person you wanted to see.

‘Wanted to check on you,’ Tig admitted.  ‘You got everybody worried, baby.’

You shook your head, turning your back on him, staring back out at the view, the empty space in front of you.  The idea of jumping swam in the back of your mind, but only for a split second before you pushed it down.  Opie wouldn’t want that.  Instead, you opened your mouth and let out a piercing scream.  The vastness swallowed the sound, but a little of the rage had seeped out with the desperate bellow, and so you did it again, yelling into the darkness, crying out your desperation safe in the knowledge that only Tig could hear you.

You didn’t notice that he’d joined you at the edge until his hand found yours, and you glanced up at him with watery eyes.  His expression had softened, as if he had finally caught a glimpse of the girl he recognised, before he too turned to look off into the distance.  ‘I thought you were just angry.  I got that, I could work with it.  I thought I could help.’

‘You did,’ you began, but he cut you off.

‘But it’s more than that, isn’t it, sweetheart?  You’ve been forcing it all down for too long, sitting on it, trying to pretend like you don’t feel anything at all.  Even before Opie… All that shit with your brother.  Hell, I’d be surprised if that little stunt you pulled back there even hurt.’

‘It didn’t.’  You’d felt a sharp stab of pain at the time but it had diminished almost immediately, and now you could barely feel a thing.

‘It should’ve.’  He pulled your hand up in front of you, studying the congealing blood from your run-in with the wall of the bar.  ‘That should sting like hell, but you won’t let yourself feel it.  You gotta feel, sweetheart.  S’how you know you’re alive.  Let it out, scream if you gotta, burn it down.  But you gotta let yourself feel something.’

He ducked his head to press a kiss to your swollen knuckles and you replayed his words in your head, listening again, really hearing them for the first time.  An overwhelming need overtook you, to feel something, to really feel.  Something good.  Something right.  Something safe.

The fingers of your good hand laced into Tig’s curls, pulling his head up so you could step forward and press your lips to his.  It was a harsh kiss, urgent and drunk and messy, and all too soon he was pulling away, letting your hand fall to your side.

‘What’re you doing?’

‘Burning it down.’

The next kiss was under his control, his touch firm on your waist as he held you steady, his mouth moving on yours, experimental but sure, so sure, that all of your doubts ebbed away.  He tasted like whiskey and smoke, and he kissed with the experience of his years, exerting just enough pressure to make you whimper before sinking deeper.  He was the first kiss since Opie and it should have made you sad, but it was new and different, and you felt heat pooling in your stomach, spreading out to set your nerve endings alight as he pulled your body flush with his.  

His eyes were dark with lust when they locked with yours, your breaths mingling in the space between your lips, and his voice was a gravelly rasp as he asked, for the final time, ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Please.’

He was strong, supporting your weight easily as he lifted you from the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist, the leather of his kutte cool against your feverish skin.  Your arms were locked around his neck, keeping him close, keeping his mouth on yours, afraid of what might happen if you stopped kissing him, afraid that the numbness would creep back in.

He stumbled as he dropped to his knees, catching himself on one hand as he lowered you gently to the ground.  The grass was damp beneath you and littered with stones but you barely noticed as his weight came down on top of you, covering you completely, a comfort blanket in the dark of the night.  Hands wandered: your nails raking over his back, relishing in the feel of his muscles shifting as he moved; his fingertips performing a dangerous dance as he explored you, drawing ever closer to the places that would make you fall apart beneath him.

His beard scratched against your skin as his lips kissed a hot trail over your chest, and you growled in frustration at the fabric barriers between you.  Clothes were discarded clumsily, neither of you willing to let more than a few millimetres of space separate you, clinging to each other with increasing desperation.  The pressure built, the kisses biting, your body writhing, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as he toyed with you, making you feel it, forcing you to call out your emotions as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

And then his piercing blue gaze locked on yours and you forgot how to breathe as he sunk into you.  And you felt it.  You felt everything he had to give and it was beautiful and terrifying and your heart was breaking, your tears falling freely as he began to move.  He was rough, forceful even, as he sought to drive you both towards the precipice, but his face was buried in your neck, soothing you with reassuring whispers all the while.  ‘I got you, baby.  It’s okay.  I got you.  You’re safe with me.’

And you were.  Completely.

When you tumbled into the black, he caught you, gentle hands cradling your head as you fell to pieces even as he reached his own end.  He held you through it, rocking you gently as your pleasure opened the gateway for everything that you’d been holding back.  It poured out of you in an onslaught of ugly, choking sobs, and he was there for every last one, kissing away the salty trails that stained your cheeks and keeping you together, grounding you as the flood dispersed.

Afterwards, you tucked your head against his chest, curling into his side, his hoody draped over you like a blanket, keeping the worst of the cold away.  The dark hair that covered his pale skin was soft against your face, and his arms protected you from the world that had hurt you so badly, and you drifted off to sleep feeling, for the first time, that things might be okay.

 

* * *

 

You woke to the sound of birdsong, the morning breeze cool against your skin.  The air was fresh with the scent of dawn and, as you slipped out of Tig’s embrace and sat up, you could see a fine layer of mist hanging over the valley below.

Testing your emotions carefully, you expected to feel some semblance of shame for your actions the day before, some sort of guilt, or a trace of the anger that had nearly swallowed you whole, but there was nothing.  Just an overwhelming sense of peace as you realised that you knew what you had to do next.

Tig stirred behind you and a warm hand stroked down the length of your spine, before being replaced by soft lips, mouthing at the sensitive skin.  ‘Morning, baby.’

‘Morning.’  You gave him a small smile as he pushed himself up, resting on one elbow as he gazed at you.  His eyes travelled down your throat, over your chest and you knew he was admiring the marks that he’d left behind, reminders of the night you’d shared.  ‘You okay?’

‘Never better.  You?’

‘I’m okay.’

You had to tell him, you knew that.  He deserved to be the first to know after everything that he’d done for you, but it just didn’t feel right.  There was something in his expression, something you’d never seen before, and you knew that what you’d done had meant a lot to him.  Maybe too much.

As if reading your mind, Tig moved to sit at your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and tugging his shirt across his lap.  Being naked together had felt as natural as breathing in the heat of the moment, but now your cheeks flushed with heat as you pulled the hoody tighter around you, slipping your arms through the sleeves now that it was no longer needed as a blanket.  ‘You wanna talk about it?’

‘About this or about yesterday?’

‘Either.  Both.’

Your sigh was heavy and he pulled you into his side as though he could protect you from your own thoughts.  ‘I don’t know what to say.  I’m sorry I dragged you down with me.’

‘Don’t be.  S’what I’m here for, sweetheart.  I just want you to be okay.’

‘I am.’  He was watching you intently as though looking for a hint of insincerity in your words.  ‘I really am, Tig.  I feel better than I have done in a long time.’

‘I got a feeling I’m not gonna like what’s coming.’

‘I know what I need to do.’   You could feel the tension in his body as he waited for you to reveal your plans and you wished you didn’t have to do this to him, but he beat you to the punch.

‘You’re leaving, huh?’

You nodded slowly.  ‘Yeah, I think I have to.  I can’t stay here.  Y’know, I thought I was coping.  I thought I was doing better.  But then… yesterday… all of this anger just came pouring out and you saw what it did to me.  It was poisonous.  Hell, it was dangerous.  I could’ve gotten the both of us killed, or at least arrested.  I was out of control.’

‘I’ve seen worse,’ he teased, but his voice lacked its usual humour.  ‘You really gotta go though?’

‘I do.  Everywhere I look back home there are constant reminders: of Opie; my brother; the way I screwed things up with Jax.  I can’t move past it when it’s thrown in my face every time I open my eyes.  I need a fresh start.  I need… I need a clean break.  From the club.  From this life.  From everything.’

‘And everyone.’  He barely masked the pain in his voice and, when you glanced his way, he’d tipped his head back, letting out a shaky breath.  ‘I’m sure as hell gonna miss you, sweetheart.  Can’t remember what it’s like not having you around.’

‘I’m gonna miss you too, Tigger.’  You reached up to ruffle his curls, smiling when he shook you off.  ‘You have no idea how much.’

‘So.’  He paused, casting a sheepish eye at the flattened patch of grass where you’d spent the night.  ‘I guess this was goodbye then, huh?’

‘It was a perfect goodbye.’  Your voice was thick with emotion as you processed what it was you were actually going to do, breaking as you uttered, ‘It was completely perfect.’

This time when you kissed him it wasn’t urgent.  It was deliciously slow, as you breathed him in, revelling in the taste of him and the feel of his mouth on yours.  Last night, you’d needed him, needed to feel what he could give you, needed him to kick-start your emotions and bring you back to life.  This morning, you just wanted him, the outlaw that had become your rock, the one person you could always count on.  

As you fell back against the ground, the hoody falling open and revealing the map of bruises that he’d created, he moved with you, his touch gentle, unhurried.  You both wanted this to last.

This time, when it was over, he pressed soft, butterfly kisses over your cheeks, your eyelids, your throat, and you hummed in contentment, pulling him in close to capture his lips one last time.  And then he helped you to your feet.

You dressed in silence, your backs turned on each other, coming together to appreciate the view for a few moments longer before you had to face reality.

‘You gonna tell Jax?’  It was the first time of you had spoken in a while and your heart faltered as you realised that it was now time to follow through.

‘Yeah.  I have to.  I owe him that much.’

‘He’s not gonna like it.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

 

* * *

 

You trekked back through the forest with Tig’s arm slung around your shoulders, a luxurious ache deep inside keeping your pace slow.  The sun had risen higher now, casting dappled patterns against the forest floor and you enjoyed the warmth of it on your face, tipping your head back and giggling when Tig copied you with an exaggerated look of bliss.

When you emerged into the parking lot, Jax was already there, Chibs with him, though you didn’t remember seeing him last night.  Their expressions were stern, and you knew they were taking in your rumpled hair and the bitemarks on your neck.  

‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘Stop, brother.’  Tig intervened before Jax could interrogate you any further.  ‘You need to hear her out, okay?’

‘What?  Are you two together now, is that was this is?’

‘I’m leaving.’  Your words silenced him, and he stared at you in disbelief.

‘You’re what?’

‘I’ve gotta get out, Jax.  Out of Charming, away from the MC.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Hey!’  Tig was quick to leap to your defence, but you shut him down with a look.

‘Look, I need this, a fresh start.  It’s what Opie wanted for me, and it’s taken a while, but… I’ve realised that I can’t be here anymore.’

‘You sure about this, love?’  Chibs had moved to your side, pulling you into his chest, his Scottish lilt in your ear bringing tears to your eyes.  ‘You’re better off here where we can keep an eye on ya, surely?’

‘No.’  You shook your head, swiping a hand over your eyes, and forcing yourself out of his embrace.  ‘No.  I need to get away.  I’m sorry.  I know I’m letting you all down.’

‘You’re not letting anyone down, baby.’  Tig would always be the one telling you what you needed to hear, you realised, and you’d never been more grateful than you were in that moment.

‘When?’  Jax had snapped out of the daze your announcement had brought upon him and now his gaze locked on yours, beseeching, begging you not to do this.

‘Soon as we get back.  I’ll pack my things and hit the road.  If I could take one of the repo’s-’

‘I can do one better.’  He swallowed hard and you held your breath as you waited for him to speak again.  ‘Ope’s truck.  It’s at Piney’s place right now but we all agreed you should have it.  I’ll call the old man, get him to drop it off at T.M.’

It was a gesture that you hadn’t seen coming and this time the tears spilled over and you fell into your best friend’s arms, letting the angst and the confusion of the blurred lines between you fade into nothing.  Too much had happened for grudges to be held and, as you prepared to say goodbye to him, you’d never loved him more.

‘Thank you.’

 

* * *

 

Opie’s truck still smelt like him: whiskey and leather and a trace of gunpowder.  Your bags were stacked on the passenger seat beside you, the same seat where you’d spent many an hour, with your feet up on the dash, singing along to the radio.  You imagined being there now, looking over to catch Opie watching you with a grin on his face, and pointing at the road to remind him that he was driving.  Your heart clenched painfully, but the warm feeling that settled over you as you remembered happier days was enough to chase that pain away.  

Tig was there to see you off, pulling up at first light to help you carry your things out of your dorm, though you’d accrued very little in the way of belongings during your time with the club.  He’d hauled it all out in one trip, and then you’d sat silently, side by side on the edge of the boxing ring, putting off that final goodbye.

‘You all set?’ he asked now, leaning in through the window to check the fuel gauge as the truck shuddered into life.  

‘Think so.’  You took a deep breath, cupping his cheek in your hand and fighting against the emotion that rose up inside you.  You knew you needed to feel it sometime - he’d taught you that - and you would.  But right now you needed to get on the road.  

‘Damn, girl, I don’t wanna watch you drive away.’

‘I know.’  Your finger stroked over his beard, tracing where it bordered his weathered skin.  ‘You take care of yourself, you hear me?  And look after Jax.  This is hurting him more than he’s letting on.’

He nodded.  ‘You need anything, you pick up the phone.  I’ll be right there.’

‘I promise.’

He stepped back and your hand fell back to the wheel.  Another deep breath and you released the brake, putting the truck into drive and rolling it down towards the gates.

It was the second time that you’d left the clubhouse behind, with thoughts of the future scrolling through your head, but whereas last time the unknown had terrified you, this time it brought with it a sense of hope, and it was that that drove you onwards.  In your rearview mirror, Tig lifted a hand and you swallowed hard as you turned onto the road.  

Charming was just waking up, Unser drinking a takeaway coffee on the hood of his car, Floyd unlocking his small barbershop ready for a busy day.  This little town had become home and you’d keep a part of it in your heart for the rest of your life, just as you’d keep Opie and Jax and Tig and Chibs and everyone else that had taken you in and made you feel like family.  But you were on your own now, no direction, no obligations, and, as you flicked the radio on, you let yourself feel the freedom awakening a sense of excitement inside of you.  You’d burnt it down and now… Now it was time to build something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happier ending for our reader this time around, but a sad goodbye to SAMCRO. I loved writing a little fluffy Tiggy and exploring our girl’s wild side as she went off the rails. Thank you for sticking with her story! It really means so much to me that you guys are still reading. And, with that in mind…
> 
> The reader’s story continues!
> 
> Coming Sunday 10th February: Let’s Pretend, the sequel to Burn It Down and continuation of The Other Guy.
> 
> 'It’s been a long time since the reader last saw any of the MC so, when she receives a call from Jax Teller asking for a place to lay low, it knocks her for six. Reunited with her best friend, old feelings and tensions rise to the surface, but will Jax put her before the club and find a place in the new life she’s built for herself, or will he break her heart and return to lead the Sons out of the mess that he helped create?'
> 
> I’m so excited to share more of the reader’s life with you and to explore her relationship with Jax years down the line. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and I’ll see you back here in a couple of weeks!


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